


All men (and women) must die

by Katerazo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Daenerys Targaryen Deserves Better, Depression, F/M, Grief/Mourning, I'm still not over her death, Inspired by Hamilton, Loss, daenerys thoughts of her life, death and death, dying makes people think about their life choices, what a sad life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25196968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katerazo/pseuds/Katerazo
Summary: Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints.As Daenerys looks into Jon's eyes as he kills her - the one who she had loved the most - and feels life leave her slowly and quickly all at once, she reflects on all the deaths on her life."Was I a sinner or a saint?" - she wants to ask."Was it worth it? Killing me?" - she wants to scream.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont & Daenerys Targaryen, Missandei & Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 17
Kudos: 23





	All men (and women) must die

She wasn’t expecting to die today. At least not by her lover’s hands. 

One moment she was talking about hopes and dreams, about building a life together, where they break the wheel, where people don’t have to suffer like they have. Where children don’t have to live in slavery, women don’t get raped and bastards don’t get condemned for life for their fathers crimes. 

_Be with me,_ she had pleaded, her heart in her hands, her whole life in his, as she seems to have done repeatedly these last few weeks - _be with me, love me as I love you, hold me dear to your heart._

_You’re my queen,_ Jon had said with a raspy voice, _now and always._ Then the hand on her face had pushed her into a kiss, and she had felt all her anxiety, her fears and insecurities fly away, pushed into a nothingness, as the man she had come to love so deeply kissed her as if she was the most important and beautiful person in the world, and not just a million of broken pieces held together by stubbornness and ambition. 

When Jon holds her it almost feels like everything will be alright. 

Until it 's not. 

Shock is the first thing that she feels - after the pain. She thinks briefly that maybe someone made it into the room, and it’s attacking her from behind. But when she looks down...the dagger is not in her back and the hand holding it it’s not an enemy’s hand. She looks at it and the blood drifting down her chest down to the white snow, uncomprehending. That is Jon’s hand, that is his dagger in her, this is the man she loves, the man she has given herself to. 

As she stares at the dagger currently deep in her _heart_ , she thinks it’s a little bit ironic that the person that she holds so closely and lovingly to her heart is the one to kill her, that after so many betrayals and treacheries that she had thought so painful and grave, the one that kills her it’s the one she least expected. 

Jon’s eyes are full of pain, regret and despair when she finally can drag her eyes from her bloody chest. She tries to speak, to say what she doesn’t know, but blood is in her throat, and it hurts, it hurts, **_it hurts._ ** Everything feels wrong, her whole body feels cold, colder that she has ever been, even against the Others, even in the very edge of the world with ice all around her; but she also feels hot, like Drogon flames are inside her, consuming everything that makes her _Daenerys_.

She wants to say so many things: 

Why? Was everything a lie? Was everything a plan? Did you ever love me? Was my love not enough?

_Is it worth it? Is it worth it killing the person who loves you the most?_

Of course she doesn’t say it, it seems like her body doesn’t belong to her anymore, her hands tremble, her chest is pure agony, and her legs fail her. Jon holds her as she falls, as he is afraid she gets hurt, as if the fall could be any worse that the dagger in her chest. 

She wants to scream, she wants to cry, she wants to call Drogon to take her away, away from the pain and the hurt... and away from the prettiest eyes she ever saw, that are now looking at her with so much pain that for a moment she thinks he’s the one that’s dying. She wants to laugh at the unfairness of it all, how after so many sacrifices she had made, how after she finally had what she wanted, now she’s dying, dying as all the people who had _died for her._

She knew this was going to happen, death doesn’t discriminate between sinners and saints, it takes and it takes. She knows it as she knows her own name...but somehow she still had thought she was exempted. 

_Valar morghulis, all men must die._

Yes, but we’re not men - she had said, almost like a dare to life itself: **_come and try to kill me, I’m a dragon, I was born from fire and I was reborn in it._ **She had thought herself above everything, she had believed she was more that a simple woman, and life - or death - had proved her wrong. All men, and women, must die. 

_Death doesn’t discriminate_ … her breath slows down as she thinks of all the people who have died either protecting her or trying to kill her … _between sinners…_ she sees her father, mad, killing everyone who came in his way; Viserys, who was so crazy for power he didn’t care if every man in the world raped her, who wanted a crown so badly he had almost killed her and her unborn baby; the slavers masters; the Khals; the Westerosi lords; the Lannisters, Cersei... _and the saints..._ her mother who died giving birth to her; Drogo, her fierce husband; her sweet baby Rhaego; Barristan, her trusted and strong advisor; Missandei, _her best friend, her family;_ Sir Jorah, _who had loved her until the end;_ her children, Viserion and Rhaegal, _the kids she could never have._

She hadn’t known why she was still alive when everyone she had ever loved died. When she was a child, orphan and lost, she used to think that she just had a rocky start in the world, just bad luck. When Drogo and Rhaego died, she believed it was her naivety, her inexperience, her trust in the wrong hands. When Barristan had been killed, she cursed the Sons of the Harpy and her incompetence in controlling her own city. When Jorah died, she had resented his loyalty and his love for her. When her children had been killed, she had regretted not believing Jon’s words about the White Walkers, and she had hated Cersei. And when Missandei, smart, loyal and beautiful Missandei had been killed in front of her, she had known that death just followed her and that her love was a curse like no other. 

And apparently now it was her turn. Maybe her luck had run out, maybe she wasn’t supposed to rule, just **conquer.** Death doesn’t discriminate, she thought, between sinners and saints. 

_What am I?_

_Am I a saint?_ Queen of Andals and the First men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains...she thought of all the people she had saved, all the kids who were free, all the women who were safe...because of her. She thought of the people in Westeros, who she had helped save from the Night King and the White Walkers.

_Or am I a sinner?_...all the people she had killed, trying to save others or herself, all the people she had sacrificed for her cause, all the people she had executed because they wouldn’t bent the knee, all the people she had killed before they killed her, all the innocents she had killed just today for a dream. Or a nightmare. 

She didn’t know what she was anymore. 

She was drowning

she was freezing

she was burning

she was **_dying._**

She just knew that Jon’s eyes were the same color as the dark sky above, and that the tears in his eyes made her wish she had the energy to caress his cheek, even if he had betrayed her, even if he had killed her...even if her love had cost her everything. 

**_am I sinner or a saint, Jon? -_ **she wants to ask. 

**_was it worth it?_ **

She wants to scream: 

_I hate you._

**_i hate you._ **

**_i love you._**

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfic, and I know it's not perfect. Please let me know if there's any grammatical errors (english is not my first language), and I'll gladly accept any criticism - as long it's not insulting or degrading. 
> 
> I just had the sudden idea of this short story after connecting "Wait for it" from Hamilton, and Daenerys life. I'm still not over her death and the injustice of it all. And I just keep thinking how lame it is that she died so quickly without saying anything - so this is my take on what happened and what were her last thoughts.


End file.
